Texture
by Venetia Carianna
Summary: If there was one thing Blair Waldorf knew about lying, it was that people who lied sought first and foremost to protect themselves....
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.:)**

**Cheers **

***VC***

He regarded the woman in his bed with lazy, satisfied eyes. There was more ..._texture..._to her, varying consistencies and flavours. She tasted sweet but not overpoweringly so. It was a bitter honey, delicious and unexpected. Being free from any emotional investment in her enabled this detached assessment. At any rate, Chuck had never been one for comparisons between bed-mates. Women and his bed were analogous to a well oiled _one way_ turnstile, once you left you were generally_ not coming back _the same way.

He pursed his lips and observed her sleeping form; _inelegant_ was the first word that sprang to his mind. She slept like a prize fighter clutching hard won spoils. The silken bed sheets wrapped firmly in her grasp were also wound about her body in style akin to mummification. He paused to admire the length of the one shapely leg currently intertwined with his own. The rest of her was face down on the bed, a messy tumble of tousled dark hair strewn every which way on the 3 pillows she'd commandeered.

She stirred then, her knee brushing against his groin unintentionally but in a way that made his previous reflections on her sleeping posture fly out the window. He groaned softly, reaching below the sheets to take hold of himself, hissing softly as she started to rouse unintentionally stimulating his cock to wakefulness.

"Good morning." he rasped against her hair.

She shot up instantly, unable to fully rise from the bed due to the tangle in which she'd twisted the sheets.

"Uhhh" she looked at him with some measure of confusion.

He quirked an eyebrow at her "Not a morning person I see..."

She threw a scornful glance his way

"Never in a million years..."

He fought hard to suppress a chuckle

"Well I won't lie and say I didn't expect you to spend the entire night, my talents in bed are well renowned."

She laughed at that, a throaty rich sound, which surprised him.

"I have to give you points for always being consistent Chuck"

He inclined his head. _Touche. _Reaching out to tuck one of the errant strands behind her ear he was struck again by the _texture. _Not soft silken curls, but strong, not coarse but thick, strands that clung to his fingertips. She was so different in every way from the woman he dreamed of every night.

Colors, texture, taste...everything was so different, but it didn`t feel wrong.

Maybe _she...The other one... _had been right all along, maybe a person wasn`t meant to fight for the right thing. Perhaps the right things _were_ uncomplicated, easy and unlikely to hurt.

He raised his eyes to meet hers again, reaching his hand to cup her face and bring her lips back down to his. Her complete compliance surprised him, not because he doubted in anyway his ability to pleasure a woman, but simply because she was ..._well she was she..._and he didn't know what to expect.

"No strings Chuck, this means nothing." she murmured against his mouth.

He did not deign to reply but slid his free hand to cup her breast, softly kneading it as she moaned into his mouth.

She was amazingly responsive, and far from inexperienced he reasoned as she expertly slipped under the sheets to fist her _knowing _hand where he needed her most.

_There was another difference_, she was exciting, not without abandon and different, but she was not shy and she did not need a tutor.

He closed his eyes knowing that with her there would be no tentative overtures, softly questioning touches, shy and seductive smiles. _He missed that. _But she didn't need to be convinced, comforted or cherished...she was not.....no he would focus on the task at hand. This was all business.

"I need you to fuck me..." she whispered against his lips

"Whatever you need Vanessa...nice and easy." he smirked, flipping her onto her back.

She pretended not to notice that the choked out name he muffled into the curve of her neck as he came sounded nothing like hers. It really was of no significance and when they left this room, it would be as though nothing had happened and nothing mattered.

_Because after all nice and easy is sometimes the only way to go, the best way to go, no pain, no regrets.....and no love?_

**A/N: I hope you liked it.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: As before, I own nothing! I love the Chuck/Blair dynamic on GG. **

If there was one thing Blair Waldorf knew about lying, it was that people who lied sought first and foremost to protect themselves. To guard against hurt, pain and above all _any form of social embarrassment. _So it was with an air of _laissez-faire_ that she strode through Constance Billard's hallways feigning nonchalance at any mention of the latest blast to issue from _Gossip Girl._

"_The Bass is Back to Chucking Around", _blared the virtual headline,accompanied by a purple themed photo of the walk of shame originating at the VdW penthouse. At least one of the parties had the sense to shower and change before being seen in the morning, The Bass himself in a purple suit and paisley tie, _and her (_Blair couldn't bring herself to utter the _Brooklyn whore's _name) in the same deep violet Catherine Malandrino knockoff she'd worn the previous night. Couldn't she have at least borrowed an outfit from Serena's closet before so brazenly sallying forth out into the Upper East Side? More than likely Chuck had convinced her to keep it on, a royal-hued remembrance of his conquest.

Blair scanned the brief text, curling her lip in distaste. _Really,_ of all the pedestrian choices of words out there..._chucking around?_ Blair rolled her expressive eyes and told herself that the sudden lurch in the pit of her stomach was due to that atrocious panini from the previous night. She'd have to have to speak to Dorota very firmly about that. Avocado was _not _meant to be grilled in a panini, no matter what Chef Domenico's thoughts were on the subject.

Yes, her upset stomach was definitely due to that panini. The sight of Chuck's palm placed intimately against _Brooklyn whore's _back in that latest blast was a trifling annoyance at best. She formulated in her mind what she'd say to him if he so much as dared to quirk an eyebrow in her direction.. _.the whoring basstard!_

She felt his presence a scant second before she saw him, perhaps it was his cologne. The fragrance notes were unmistakeable. Unbeknownst to herself and to the bewilderment of two exceedingly helpful sales staff, she'd once absently sniffed through the entire men's fragrance section at Bergdorf's trying to pinpoint exactly his elusive choice of scent. It had been an exercise in futility, she'd reached the conclusion that he'd commissioned that scent for himself in France, she vaguely remembered a conversation they'd had...oh...eons ago.... about the type of scent he thought would suit her best and how they could have it manufactured in a place he knew near Avignon outside Paris.

She'd never forget that night in her room........

_She twisted above him, locking her fingers into his newly shorn hair, pulling his signature scarf from his neck and tying it about her forehead guerrilla style. He'd erupted into laughter at that, eliciting giggles from her as she slid off him onto her feet. They'd both sobered instantly when she'd slowly begun stripping off her clothes....skirt, tights, sweater, lace panties and matching beribboned bra, until she was clad only in his scarf. She untied it from around her head and let it hang from her neck, each side tantalizing brushing against the smooth creamy slopes of her breasts._

_His breath hitched in his throat. He knew instinctively when she was trying out something different and the striptease was breathtakingly seductive in the slow, hesitant innocence of her movements. He'd never forget the moment he let her stand there...naked...vulnerable....until she'd folded her arms across her chest and started spewing venom at him for just laying there. Beautiful, delicate and touched only by him, his heart swelled with the pride and privilege of it all. She was his alone and that's how he wanted it for all time._

_Reaching for her he'd shown her with his hands, lips and eyes what his words couldn't articulate..._

"Morning Waldorf."

The salutation sounded almost resigned coming from him. She snapped out of her x-rated reverie and turned to face him. Suddenly and inexplicably an overwhelming sadness enveloped her, but she squared her shoulders and looked into his eyes.

"Hello Chuck."

He knew immediately that today`s exchange would not comprise their usual carefully chosen barbs of malice or sassily delivered one liners. Her eyes were clouded and in their brown depths he glimpsed a pain he'd only seen twice before. _Something more was going on here...._

Momentarily speechless, he was spared the indignity of having to search for words, when she extracted a small box from her purse and thrust it unceremoniously towards him.

Instinctively he took it, not immediately registering what it was.

"You should have that back." she said dropping her gaze from his to fiddle in fake importance with her phone.

"I presume its jewellery and since I have not opened it nor do I wish to open it, you should have no problem returning it to wherever it came from. Although I'm sure you'll find some other better use for it."

Turning on her heel she'd walked swiftly away on admirably steady legs, leaving him to scowl at the Tiffany blue box in his palm.

He pulled the ribbon off the box and pulled out the delicate piece, turning it over to view the engraving he'd requested on the back. An engraving he was almost relieved she had not read in view of these most recent events.

For the second time that morning another Upper East Side stomach lamented whatever they had indulged in the previous night.

In Chuck Bass case...it was one Vanessa Abrams.

Tbc.

A/N: I hope you enjoyed it. Thanks for reading

**Thanks to the people who offered feedback ******_**Leighla, BrittyKay and the two anon reviewers**_


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I own nothing!**

**This is a split instalment. More to follow hopefully.**

**Happy reading, I hope you'll enjoy it :)**

She noted with a momentary flash of amusement that he was wearing most of the blood red lipstick she so favoured lately, but had neglected to remove tonight. She had been in far too much of a hurry....

She was usually particular and fastidious about her nightly routines. Almost ritualistically, she'd cream off her makeup, apply astringent, and wash her face before using her favourite dewy moisturizer. Maintaining a flawless beauty regimen had been drilled into her at a very young age by her mother. Exuding what seemed like effortless perfection in actuality required hard work and a strict adherence to routine.

He made her break her habits; the most commonplace tasks always fell to the wayside when he came around, she lost control and once upon a time she had trusted herself to let her guard down with him.

Until he'd ruined it all.

"Touch me ba.. Blair...." he whispered against her mouth.

It was an unspoken agreement they had always had, sentimental endearments of any kind were _not permissible._ She would not be called sweetheart and darling by any man other than her father. To be fair it was not in his style to do so either. He was man of few but precisely chosen words. This was definitely applicable during his _lovemaking...._ a term he was loath to use with anyone but her.

Truthfully, it had never applied to anyone but her.....

He reflected that it was an awful shame he couldn't tell her as much but it was too late now wasn't it? She was here for comfort and to feel wanted. Everything had fallen apart with Nathaniel again and she'd called him, sobbing, broken and not a little inebriated. Déjà-vu reared its ugly head and refusing to take his 'no' for an answer she dug deep into her formidable arsenal throwing past dalliances in his face in the stinging ways only she could.

"Oh don't pretend that I'm not one of the better lays you've had Bass, you taught me just about everything I know anyway." she jeered

"Blair...don't..."

"If you could screw that miserable whore from Brooklyn, why can't you screw an _Upper East Side Princess." _

Only he knew that the tone in which she uttered the words belied their meaning. She did not currently consider herself elite or perfect and she wanted this _thing _with him to validate her new depraved state.

"This has nothing to do with Vanessa." he said it softly

"This has EVERYTHING to do with ANY slut you've ever bedded!" she flung back, tears running down her face.

He had denied her...oh more than once now...and it had hurt him more than it could have hurt her. She couldn't know how much he wanted her even as she threw vile insults in his face, backed him into corners and proclaimed herself a new woman.

When she moved to pull him with her backwards onto the bed, he had not resisted, knowing that this time he couldn't leave, as she pressed her lips to his.

He kissed her back pouring his heart into every movement of his mouth against hers, every caress of his hands against her skin. Heartbreakingly gentle, tender in a way she had never experienced with him and did not want to start now. It brought back unwanted memories of their first time together.

She remembered the soft enquiry "Are you sure?" The awe and reverence with which he'd touched her after that initial heady rush of being allowed, accepted....nay.._encouraged _as the first to know her intimately.

She was lost, deliciously, pleasurably lost in a hazy, clouded realm, where the only reality was his mouth on hers and his hands roaming her body.

She exhaled the breath she wasn't aware she'd been holding as he began a slow slide down her neck. Softly nipping her shoulder and crossing to her collarbone till he reached the soft delicate hollow at the base of her neck a place he loved to linger. He paused here to lift his head and run his tongue across her bottom lip, sucking it into his mouth as she wove her hands into his hair.

It was almost, almost perfection; it was the culmination of her sweetest dreams, _Chuck and Blair, Blair and Chuck_. The tears rose unbidden to her eyes, splashing onto his shoulder as his lips quested for the sensitive skin below her jawbone.

He felt the tears and moved to look into her eyes. Unable to hold his gaze, she closed her eyes, willing him to accept that she did not want to speak, willing him to continue his sweet torment of her body. She could not allow him to see in her eyes what she had told herself she was putting to rest.

But he had stopped and stilled his ministrations. He placed a kiss against her forehead and used his thumbs to brush away the tracks of tears coursing down her face. Moving off her he pulled her body into to the curve of his own tucking her head below his chin and pulling sheets over them.

She continued to shake with silent tears, desperately wanting him to leave, desperately wanting him to stay. She was exhausted, there was no more fight left in her. It was up to him to leave and leave she knew he would.

Then they'd be back where they always ended up, at the beginning, coming full circle with one withholding the necessary surrender that would save them.

It was late on Saturday morning when she woke, immediately cognizant of the fact that she was alone....save for a breathtakingly beautiful bracelet clasped around her wrist.

She removed it to examine the interweaving of diamonds and sapphires, softly smiling at its delicate beauty until she spied the inscription on a tiny plate by the clasp.

"_The star to every wandering bark." 116_

He still had the power to surprise her, when she least expected it and when she'd finally decided that she was finished, exhausted and emphatically done!

A lone tear escaped her darkening the light blue of her pillow as she murmured 'why' into the lonely recesses of her mind.

Tbc.

A/N: More to follow, I hope you enjoyed it.

Thanks to everyone who's been reading and reviewing!


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I lay absolutely **no claim** to the characters, books, plotlines and anything else you can come up with that is affiliated with Gossip Girl :)

Hope you'll enjoy this instalment!

I also want to mention, that these chapters are not meant to be strictly chronological, but I'm guessing you've figured that out as we go :)

She hated herself for feeling this way but she couldn't help it. He was on her mind constantly, it had become more than mildly irritating to feel her pulse quicken at the sound of a low, drawling voice, only to turn around and discover it was someone else.

Nate had never had this effect on her. She pursed her lips thoughtfully considering that she'd always been happy with Nate. Maybe it was like the lure of forbidden fruit, wanting something you knew was wrong for you or belonged to someone else... _and he did belong to someone else_. She harboured no delusions on that front; they were what they were because of the cold blooded machinations of other people. Still, she wanted him. Desperately, cravenly and with a rush of heated desire when he laid his hands on her..... _yes, Vanessa Abrams craved Chuck Bass._

She contemplated this first real deviant behaviour on her part, she had built a life around her concept of _integrity, so what kind of hypocrite was she now_? Polar opposites did not even come close to identifying their dynamic. The only thing they really had in common was the mind-blowing sex. The best she'd ever had...Vanessa paused here to reflect...._and then some._ She wasn't averse to going back for more, that she was sure of and not a little bit disgusted about.

They had decided, mostly non-verbally, that their _hook-up _was a one off deal,stemming from a mutual desire to comfort and be comforted. He was too much of an arrogant ass to ever consider concealing his _sex_tracurricular activities, which why she'd been taken by surprise when he so readily acquiesced to her demand that they pretend that night (and morning!) had not happened. If he had suggested it on his own, she'd have been furious and felt cheapened but it had been_ her idea._ He had not hazarded a single suggestion beyond a couple of lewd comments about an encore performance the morning after.

She'd been irritable and cranky for days thereafter, as well as uncertain what to do where both Nate and Chuck were concerned. Unseasonably cool spring temperatures also had her feeling under the weather but she persisted in her long rambling walks through the city, they provided her some measure of mental solitude. She thought about sending him a text to meet for coffee but it was never so simple with someone like Chuck Bass. She even set off for the Palace after an hour of attempting to talk herself out of the idea, but the weather seemed to exacerbate her flu-like symptoms and she instead took a detour to her doctor's office.

It had been two weeks since Jenny's surprise party and they had had little contact. He had contacted her to enquire if she was well and had also bandied around some vulgar innuendo, which put to rest any concerns she had that he regretted anything. Then again, he was Chuck Bass and the word regret did not figure too literally into his vocabulary, at least not where she was concerned, although that was _presumably_ about to change.

"You look a little under the weather." he made the comment lightly enough, but she was in no humour to hear it.

"I've never particularly cared what you thought of my appearance Chuck, so you can spare me the observations." she bit back.

He did not respond but removed her coat himself and gestured her towards the most comfortable seat in Lily's pristine living area.

She did not look at ease. He noted that immediately and uncharacteristically exerted himself to make her more comfortable. After all he had no real objections to her anymore. In fact, he inwardly quirked an eyebrow, lately there was a lot more to appreciate of Vanessa Abrams than there was to object to.

Handing her a glass of water, he waited patiently for her to spit out whatever news it was that was causing her to shred the tiny cocktail napkin Lily used in conjunction with her drink coasters.

"I'd rather talk to you some place where it's a little less likely that we'll be interrupted."

He curbed his desire to vocalize the salacious witticism that sprang to his tongue at her comment and led her to his bedroom.

She wouldn't sit in the chair he indicated but instead began roving about the room, absently touching the few personal items he used to adorn the otherwise sparse furnishings.

Picking up a pretty gilt edged book she smiled as she read the title in raised calligraphy, _"Shakespeare's Sonnets?" _she cocked an eyebrow at him. "I wouldn't have taken you for a poetry buff. Although you could do worse than the Bard I'm sure."

"I am not a poetry buff." he clipped the words out brusquely

Ignoring the warning signs she pressed on. "This looks like you've read it in and out!"

"There's post-it notes in here" she smiled fully for the first time since she'd walked in, genuine amusement and delight at discovering what she thought was another facet to the enigma that was Chuck Bass.

"It was lent to me a long time ago and I repeat that I am not a poetry person." he removed the collection abruptly from her hands.

She didn't like his tone but that was moot at this point. He wasn't going to like what she had to say, so she bit her tongue at the retort she had prepared and said instead in a suddenly breathy and barely intelligible tone.

"I may be pregnant, I'm pretty sure it's not yours, but I'd like you to come with me when I find out for certain."

The silence which reigned between them in the moments that followed was deafening.

Chuck's grasp on the sonnets had slackened but she was sure he neither knew nor cared that the delicate little book now rested on the floor in close proximity to her rain sodden boots.

**A/N: This was a strange one to write. I hope you enjoyed it nonetheless**

**Do let me know if you have any thoughts.**

**Happy Easter everyone! :)**


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